


Everyone Loves Professor Anderson

by PixelCube



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Classic schoolboy crushing on his teacher trope, Connor Has Anxiety, Connor has a huge crush, Hank Anderson is so done but hot, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, My First AO3 Post, No Plot/Plotless, Rating May Change, Romantic tension too I guess, Tags May Change, Unresolved Sexual Tension like damn, might continue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28795452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelCube/pseuds/PixelCube
Summary: The clock ticked by too quickly.Students shuffled in their seats. Backpacks were zipped up. Groups of friends congregated to chat before that final bell rung out.Connor begged for that clock to never ring, for time to pause or even stop. Because from his desk, he had a beautiful view of Professor Anderson.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Everyone Loves Professor Anderson

**Author's Note:**

> In no means is this my first Hankcon fic, but this is the first one I’ve posted here. Please go easy on me.

The clock ticked by too quickly. Students shuffled in their seats. Backpacks were zipped up. Groups of friends congregated to chat before that final bell rung out. 

Connor begged for that clock to never ring, for time to pause or even stop. From his desk, Professor Anderson looked... what word could he use? Looking through an encyclopedia wouldn’t even give him a word he hasn’t used yet. He had his hair tied up again today, the third day in a row. When he didn’t have that long hair swept up, Connor fought the urge to leap from his seat and run down to the front of the hall to comb through it, tie it oh-so gently, and kiss his nose to wrap it all up. 

Connor’s face was already beginning to warm up. The clock kept ticking. 

The professor always wore his glasses. He finally decided that he really did have impaired vision and that he wasn’t just trying to spring up a boner out of Connor. He watched as Professor Anderson squinted at his computer screen, then lifted his hand up to... oh, god, to push them up closer to his eyes, those bright and luminous eyes that always shone whenever he told a shitty joke or noticed his class collectively understand a topic they’d been drilling over. Those ice-blue eyes lifted from the screen and up to Connor- _fuck!_

The bell rang, loudly and obnoxiously. The rest of the class jumped to rush out of the exits, car keys in hands and backpacks slung over shoulders. Connor clumsily followed suit. Two folders were stuffed into his ratty bag, and two more papers dug out of it. 

Wait. These were the wrong papers. But, he just had them! They were on the table, right... right. On the table, not in the folder.  
Connor shoved the unneeded papers back into the bag- cringing as they folded and crumpled- and reached for the papers he actually needed. Just as they were in his hands, they were swept to the floor by some random gust of wind that just loved watching him suffer. 

Connor was the only one in the lecture hall now, aside from his professor. He didn’t want to look up and chance seeing Anderson silently laughing at his stupid, anxiety-driven actions. 

Finally. The two papers were in hand, phone in pocket, ratty bag safely across his torso and resting on his hip.  
He began his descent.

Connor was fine. He could talk to his teacher about a failed test and the retake work needed for said flunked test. Everyone could- so could he! 

The hall was large, the steps were small, and Connor was already halfway to the professor’s desk. Anderson had to have already known he was coming, with that paper throwing party he had a few minutes ago. Connor swallowed down the lump in his throat as Professor Anderson tapped a final key on the keyboard: presumably sending an email, submitting a grade, or, hell, clicking out of a porn website. Connor wouldn’t judge. He shoved away the thought in his mind that wished his professor was watching porn, just so he could be bent over and brought to Dickville. 

Connor was steps away from Anderson’s desk, and neither had said anything yet. Looks like his life was over: he had to make the first move.

“Hi, professor... um,” he cleared his throat to clear out the sudden bout of phlegm he’d collected. Just as quickly as he held the two papers regarding America in the 19th century to his chest, he hesitantly settled them down onto an unoccupied section of the professor’s desk. Their hands were so close together.

Connor’s pale and trembling hand was encroaching on Anderson’s space, and he really wished he could encroach more.  
“listen, I know I promised I’d finish this rea- reassessment work, but, I...” 

Professor Anderson’s eyes finally met Connor’s. His tongue dried up, became thick and useless in his mouth. His dark eyes widened, a sense of glory and awe shining in them. 

Anderson blinked once, and Connor was snapped out of his daze.  
“...I just don’t understand it, and, and I need more time so can I please just have another week to work on this?” He sharply inhaled for air. 

Fuck, he was sweating. His hands trembled where they were gripped onto the single strap across his chest. It didn’t help that the whole room was silent except for Connor’s labored breathing. 

“Connor.” Hank’s voice was deep. He swore his heart stuttered for a moment. 

“Yeah?”

“Can you breathe for a second?” 

Connor eagerly and rapidly nodded. He deeply exhaled, and Anderson slumped in his seat when the next breath came in at a rapid pace. 

He immediately moved to apologize. “I’m... I’m sorry, I’ve just been-“ 

Anderson interrupted him as his hand went out to slide the papers towards himself. 

“Something outside of class?” He mumbled. His eyes scanned along the questions Connor had answered, deciphering his scrawl. 

“Well. Yeah, I mean... yeah.”

Most teachers would assume a student was struggling with money, or a relationship, maybe their dog died or their parents were in the midst of a divorce. But of course, Connor _had_ to be chest-deep in his unending crush for his history professor.

While his answers were examined, he had the luck to be able to admire Anderson up close and personal. He wanted to stroke his cheek and kiss his beard, to lay his head upon his chest and count every time his heart pounded right into his ear. 

“Everything you did so far is correct.”

Connor jolted out of his daydream. Their eyes locked onto each other, Connor’s appearing more flustered than the other’s.

“You’re halfway done, you don’t need a whole week to finish this, Connor.” Anderson’s bangs followed his movements as he lightly shook his head. His own expression lightened and a heavy weight fell off of some part of his body. 

“...Really?” Connor’s voice came out too child-like. 

_“Really? You’ll let me suck your cock if I just fix these ten other questions?”_

“Really, kid. If you’re not needed anywhere, we could just...” Anderson sighed and slumped back into his chair.

The test questions and Connor’s scribbles were slapped onto the desk while his professor glanced over his computer screen.

Connor internally panicked. He just had to breathe, in and out, really deep and slow, and will away the boner threatening to make itself known, no matter the time of day. 

“Fuck it, we’ll go through the answers and I’ll fix your grade.” Anderson suddenly announced. His posture corrected as he offered a pencil to Connor. 

Professor Anderson smiled at him.  
Connor’s entire expression changed. Those deep, brown eyes shimmered and his shoulders picked up. His breathing finally relaxed to a normal pace.

“...Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I was thinking about continuing this, but this was intended to be a one-shot, with no plot whatsoever. Maybe one day...


End file.
